


Slave to Duty

by WhumpTown



Category: Prodigal Son (TV 2019)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Comfort/Angst, F/M, Gil Arroyo Acting as Malcolm Bright's Parental Figure, Hurt Malcolm Bright, Malcolm Bright & JT Tarmel Friendship, Malcolm Bright Whump, Minor Malcolm Bright/Dani Powell, Non-Consensual Touching, Parental Gil Arroyo, Protective Dani Powell, Protective Gil Arroyo, Protective JT Tarmel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-19
Updated: 2020-06-10
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:14:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24267271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhumpTown/pseuds/WhumpTown
Summary: A series of murders take a drastic turn when Malcolm realizes he knows the murderer.
Relationships: Gil Arroyo & Malcolm Bright, Malcolm Bright & Ainsley Whitly, Malcolm Bright & Dani Powell, Malcolm Bright & Edrisa Tanaka, Malcolm Bright & JT Tarmel, Malcolm Bright & Jessica Whitly, Malcolm Bright/Dani Powell
Comments: 10
Kudos: 61





	1. Chapter 1

_**“When we were children, we used to think that when we were grown-up we would no longer be vulnerable. But to grow up is to accept vulnerability... To be alive is to be vulnerable.” -Madeleine L'Engle** _

It’s incredibly hard to keep a secret from a profiler.

It takes all of ten minutes for Malcolm to become suspicious of his coworkers. JT refuses to make eye-contact and Edrisa can’t stop looking at him. Normally, Edrisa looks at him a lot and JT avoids him as much as possible but even for them, it’s a bit much. He decides to not question either of them and waits for Dani to stop working to grab her 9:30 coffee refill in the breakroom.

He slips in right behind her, leaning his hip into the counter while Dani pours herself another cup. She regards him with an air of carelessness. The two of them are so common in one another’s lives now that she hardly notices his little invasions of her privacy and personal space. He uses this to his advantage. With his proximity, he hopes to throw her attention just enough to get a read on her. “What are you all hiding?” 

To his surprise, she slides him a cup of coffee, and his fingers instinctively wrap around the warm mug. For the most part, ignoring his question, she sets about finishing her original goal. He watches as she pours creamer into her mug, tilting the bottle his way in silent question if he wants some. 

He doesn't bother wasting either of their time by restating his question. 

Dani takes a sip of her coffee, testing the balance of creamed and sugar with a grimace. "They always make the weakest coffee, " she complains but knocks the lip of her mug against his mug. Her customary _cheers_. "So, " she mirrors his body language relaxing against the counter with him. "You think we're hiding something."

He grins at her tone, her ability to slip from his grasp. He values her friendship but it terrifies him how easily she escapes his hold. Dani Powell is the only person he’s ever met that he can’t profile. He flushes uncontrollably and looks to the floor. “Uh,” he takes a sip of the coffee and finds she’s correct. It tastes watered down. “Actually, I don’t think _you_ are hiding something but I _know_ JT and Edrisa are.” 

He finds himself unable to contain a smile when Dani squints her eyes. He returns the squint and tilts his head to mirror her humor. “So,” he challenges taking another sip from his mug. “Are you going to tell me or-”

A knock at the door puts an immediate halt in their fun and Malcolm spins around to find Gil. He’s looking between them with a disgusted frown. Looking more like a father who has just walked into his child’s room to find them making out with the “study” partner and not an NYPD Lieutenant looking at an ex-FBI profiler and a detective. “We, uh,” he turns his nose up a little as he regards their proximity. “We have another body.”

It started last Friday. 

Ex-FBI agent and retired academy instructor Alex Jenkins was found murdered in his flat. There were no signs of a struggle unless one counted the aftermath of steamy bathtub sex leaving the bathroom floor covered in splashes of water. Malcolm recognizes Jenkins from his academy days. The man was a tough instructor, had it out for Malcolm but he persevered and holds no general condemnation for the older man. 

Gil wrote it off as a sex worker gone rogue and Malcolm wasn’t asked to give a profile until Saturday turned up another body.

Another man and another connection to the academy. This time not an instructor but rather one of Alex Jenkin’s trusted sources. Malcolm recognized the man immediately. Dave Mack had been in multiple of Jenkin’s classes as a guest speaker. Just like Jenkins he was found in the bathtub, condom on, wrist slit, and strangled.

Now, they’re at three bodies with only one day for a cooling-off period.

“Trinity Balton,” Edrisa tells them, standing in the middle of a wrecked living room. “Her Tinder date found her!” She flashes Malcolm an award-winning smile and he does his best to reciprocate but he’s a little taken aback. 

He looks over the scene and can’t fathom how this murder could be connected to the other two. “Forgive me if something has slipped from my attention,” he looks to Gil for some guidance. “I see no correlation-”

JT clears his throat, lifts the blanket Edrisa has carefully draped over the body. 

“Never mind,” Malcolm mutters stepping closer. Mercifully, there is no soiled condom-like with the last two victims. However, Trinity Balton seems to have suffered the same fate as the other men. There are two deep cuts to her wrist and lacerations on her neck from being strangled. She alone changes everything about his profile. “I don’t think we’re looking for a sex worker.”

Gil grunts. Yeah, he’d figured that out himself. He motions his head to Trinity, “who do you think we’re looking for?”

Malcolm crouches down beside Trinity. She fought back when neither of Jenkins nor Mack did. He’ll have to ask Edrisa if there was any evidence of sexual assault and given that poor Trinity is laid out before them deprived of all of her clothes he can form an educated guess. So, what made this kill different from the other two?

“Why did she fight back when Jenkins and Mack didn’t?” Dani crouches down beside him, leaning close to him to see what he’s looking at. “If I was waiting on a Tinder date,” Dani tells them, looking specifically at Gil. “I know I wouldn’t let him into my building let alone my apartment.” She points to the door, to the hallway where Trinity’s coat is still on its hook. “The fight doesn’t start until we get into the living room.”

Malcolm nods, “which means she knew him.”

JT frowns, arms crossed over his chest. “What do you mean _him_?”

Malcolm stands, brushing his hands down his pants to fix any potential creases. “We have three dead victims, two older men, and a younger woman.” He crosses his arms looking over the scene around them. “It’s about the sex,” Malcolm explains. “The power that he derives from sex.”

“But-” JT bites his teeth together for a moment, unsure if the question he’s going to raise is… “If our other guys-”

“Jenkins and Mack,” Malcolm supplies.

“Right. If Jenkins and Mack both had the condoms on and our killer is a man then how is it about the power? He was on the…”

Malcolm chuckles and it catches the room by surprise. Gil raises an eyebrow and it becomes apparent to Malcolm that he is the only person who understands why that question might be funny. “Oh,” he sighs. “Uhm, JT is right.” He extends a hand in JT’s direction. “However, when it comes to sex being the, uh, bottom or the receiver can still be a powerful role.” He rubs at his neck, “Jenkins and Mack were both found in their tubs. Their positions, legs splayed open, back to the tub almost like they were leisurely bathing suggests that our killer was uh, was implementing a power bottom role.”

It takes Dani a moment to digest this information but once she does, it leaves her with another question. “So, why go from killing retired men to a college graduate living in a rundown apartment complex? Why go from men to women?”

Malcolm shakes his head. For that, he has no reason. The victims have to have a connection somewhere because assigning their killer as bisexual or even bicurious still doesn’t answer her question. “That I’m not so sure,” he crosses his arms over his chest. “If it’s about power and the sex, Jenkins and Mack make sense. They were both alpha males and he demeaned them and killed them. Even leaving them naked.” He looks around them. Malcolm doesn’t see this is devolution for their killer. If anything, it would suggest a completely different killer but the m.o. matches. “Once we figure the connection, we’ll find him.”  
____________________

Malcolm isn't suspecting a thing on the ride back to the precinct. His attention is out the window, his eyes glazed over as he works the crime scenes over in his head. The radio plays softly in the background but the tunes don't distract him. For a moment, he's pulled from his thoughts. A silly smile he finds he can't quite help on his face at the sight of Dani. He doesn't recognize the song but Dani does and she seems to really like it. 

He realizes, without ever having heard the song, he likes it too. The beat or words or the artist's expression couldn't matter less. He likes the way the song makes Dani look. How carefree it lets her feel. 

“So,” Dani pulls into the closest parking spot she can find to the precinct already unbuckling before he can really pull himself through his spiraling thoughts. “You think we’ll catch this guy?”

There’s something about the way she’s walking, the way she’s acting in this very second that makes him doubt his previous dismissal of the idea that she’s hiding something from him. He doesn’t allow himself to get carried away with what it might be but rather why. She is normally his co-conspirator, not JT’s and Edrisa’s. He hasn’t figured out if her question about their killer has been to distract him or not.

He falls into step with her. His answer doesn’t come immediately, he does consider what it would be like not to catch their killer. “I think we will,” he decides, trying to push down the overwhelming anxiety the thought gives him. “We make a pretty good team.” He looks at her with a mischievous glint in his blue eyes. 

She shakes her head at him but can’t help but mirror that silly grin. His statement has a clear double meaning. He was saying them, as in Edrisa, Gil, JT but she also knows that means them, just the two of them. And that makes her cheeks burn hot. “Shut up, Malcolm.” His first name feels _right_.

Her reaction makes him feel hot. Something about the way she says _Malcolm_. It makes him feel like maybe fate is real. Perhaps, he was destined to be named Malcolm just so that he could hear her say his name in a parking lot. He would find the wait worth it and with a bated breath he wishes to hear her say it again. To breathe his name yearningly in his ear with her hot breath down his collar. 

“Happy Birthday!”

He realizes his eyes were on her. He was so engrossed on the way her hips moved when she walked and her thin fingers brushing curls away from her face. Lost, he doesn’t realize what’s happening until it’s a moment too late. He looks around the room and his brain blanks. “Birthday,” he sighs and they’re right. It is his birthday but he hasn’t celebrated it in over five years. 

Dani bumps her side against his, clearly pleased with her work. There’s a glint in her eyes and he knows she’s realized that she holds power over him. The problem with profiling is it can be biased and anything that concerns Dani is biased for him. 

He watches her cross the room, leaving him to go stand with Edrisa. The two share a blatant joy for having pulled one over on him. He’s lost in looking at her, thinking about her. JT has to say his name twice before he can shake himself back. “Hey,” he greets the older detective taking what looks like punch from him. “This spiked?”

JT frowns, “uh, no. Thought you couldn’t mix alcohol and your meds.” He clicks his tongue, offering “I could make it spiked if you’d want though.”

Malcolm smiles down at the discolored liquid in his hands. He doesn’t have enough fingers to count the number of times ‘friends’ had spiked his drinks knowing that they would mess with meds. The repercussions aren’t deathly but he needs to monitor his intake. Namely, so he doesn’t spend his night over the toilet losing the meager contents of his stomach.

He smiles and shakes his head. “I’m good, thank you.” He takes a tentative sip and finds it’s probably kool-aid and sprite. Which would make a good mixer for vodka or tequila. “It’s good,” he motions with the cup and he looks around them. “It’s good, no one’s ever thrown me a surprise birthday party.” 

JT frowns into his cup. No one? He shakes his head. 

There’s a knock at the door and a beat cop enters. “Uh,” he looks around the room until he finds Gil. “Sir, there was a murder about three hours ago. You’ve got a call on the first line, it’s got to do with your serial killer.”

The party comes to a shuddering halt. 

Gil puts his cup down, “alright.” He sighs, “we’ve got work to do.”

Martha Dredge is a sixty-nine-year-old widow found with her wrist slit and strangled in her small apartment. Her clothes are still in place and her apartment clean. 

Malcolm doesn’t want to jump to any conclusions but he has a sneaking suspicion that this poor woman is their killer’s mother. Bias will hinder his profile so he knocks the easy notion away and reconsiders another possibility. “He didn’t leave her for us,” Malcolm notes. The others were stationed. “He’s either devolving or-”

“Done?” Dani asks hopefully but she knows her answer just from the way Malcolm moves his lips. 

Malcolm shakes his head, “probably not.” He sighs, “he’s-he’s-”

“Shit!” The attention shifts to JT. He’s got a tiny notebook in his hands, eyes frantically scanning over the notes on the pages. “Shit-” he repeats himself over and over having made a connection or lost something. They can’t tell but whatever it is- “I found the connection!” He finds the page he’s looking for and the whispering under his breath stops. “Dredge,” he motions offhandedly, making it clear that he’s talking about victims. “I knew that last name was familiar because Trinity Balton’s ex-boyfriend's last name was Dredge. Holden Dredge.”

Malcolm frowns, “Holden Dredge? I think-” He went to the academy with a Holden Dredge. Holden was not an alpha male which left him to be the butt of most jokes in the academy. He and Malcolm were easily outcasts. “I went to the academy with a Holden Dredge. We were in Jenkins class together.”

Their silence is mutual agreement, this is their guy. 

It’s a morbid twist on things. In the academy, Malcolm was the “future serial killer” who needed to be watched out for. The other men would avoid him like the plague. Then Holden Dredge came along and together they became the rejects or the academy. 

“Anything we need to know about this guy?”

The question feels like it comes out of nowhere but he hasn’t been paying attention. It takes him a second to gather himself, to place his surroundings, and let his brain catch up. He’d been thinking about his time at the academy. More importantly, he was thinking about his relationship with Dredge. Young stupid outsiders but Dredge… there was always something a little wrong about him. He was possessive and maybe that was Malcolm’s fault.

“Bright,” Dani calls his name and he realizes she must have already called for his attention several times. “Is there anything we need to know about this guy?” 

There’s a long list of things. He can remember the quality time he spent with Dredge. The things that he was told in confidence… Do they matter now? “I don’t think so.” He realizes his own trepidation and shakes his head. “I mean, no. He’ll probably go down without a fight. I can probably talk him down but he’s taken the same negotiation course I did. It’s going to be difficult but not impossible.”

They both squint as a vehicle with its high beams on drives past them.

“But you think-” a horn blares and glass crunches. Two cars collide on the road. On the spidered windshield is blood.

Out of the first car, Holden Dredge steps out. Unharmed. He makes the short distance from his car to the other. His last victim rests inside the smoking vehicle. “Hello, Dani Powell.” He nods to her and he finds that it's a shame she isn’t awake to greet him back. But he’s not here for Dani.

“My love,” Holden gently touches Malcolm’s cheek. “Oh, how I’ve missed you.”

_**“I can’t exactly describe how I feel, but it’s not quite right. And it leaves me cold.” -F. Scott Fitsgerald** _


	2. Chapter 2

_**“We don’t even ask for happiness, just a little less pain.” -Charles Bukowski** _

“My love?”

They were young and dumb, . Malcolm was unsure and uncertainty mixed with the sexual promiscuity of youth and now, almost ten years later, he’s paying that price for that. It was fun but it wasn’t love. Malcolm learned a valuable lesson. “Holden.” It cost him everything but that is youth as is life.

Holden smiles down at Malcolm, gently stroking a trail of blood off of his cheek. “I was getting worried,” Holden admits softly. He’s so soft, gentle that Malcolm has to remind himself that the man he once loved has killed four people. Holden Dredge is dangerous but he moves his thumb again and Malcolm finds himself leaning into the touch. “You scared me,” Holden breathes, thumb brushing over Malcolm’s lips.

It was hard to forget how safe Holden could make him feel. 

“I’m okay,” Malcolm reassures. His body begs to differ. There isn’t an inch of his skin on his body that doesn’t ache beyond words. He’s weak and clammy. “I’ll-I’ll be okay.” He can’t move, can’t pull away when Holden leans closer. Holden is gentle but demanding as he presses his lips to Malcolm. It’s crazy how quickly Malcolm steps into old habits. “W-Wait-” 

Holden’s left hand is already unbuttoning his dress pants, palming him. He pulls back, frowning at how visibly Malcolm is shaking. “Mal,” Holden brushes a hand across the side of Malcolm’s face, pushing back his hair. “Mal, baby, are you okay?”

 _Baby_ makes Malcolm visibly flinch and his stomach finally rebels. The only thing worse than his lack of control over his own body is Holden’s hands wrapped around his chest. Holden is the only thing that keeps him upright as he tilts listlessly to the side. His own sick soils his shirt. “Sorry,” he rasps, head spinning.

Holden smiles. It’s sickening, wrong. “Don’t worry,” Holden soothes but it lacks any inflection of emotion. It’s not right because Malcolm may have loved Holden but Holden could never truly love Malcolm. “It’s just like old times.” 

Malcolm’s painfully reminded of the real reason he and Holden could never make it. Holden could be cruel, often out of hand. Sex was rough and that’s good for hook-ups but Holden never drew any lines even where Malcolm drew his. The final line crossed two months after Malcolm walked around with Holden’s hand bruised on his throat. 

They were at a party and Holden got them drinks. He knew Malcolm’s meds wouldn’t mix well with the alcohol but he didn’t care. Malcolm downed three spiked drinks before Holden told him. So the _old times_ Holden is referring to are his self-made times. Malcolm bent over a toilet exhausted and weak because of Holden. Because that’s how Holden liked it though. Submissive, rough. 

Holden’s hand brushes against his lip. “I’ve missed you,” Holden whispers, kissing him gently. “Did you miss me?” He deepens the kiss, tongue pushing past Malcolm’s lips. 

Malcolm feels sick. He’s uneasy but he knows what to say, what he has to say. “Everyday,” he replies, opening his mouth to allow Holden what he wants. It’s easier that way. He can’t bite back a whimper when Holden’s hand snakes up his shirt, touching bruised skin and pressing against broken ribs. Holden carries on just as Malcolm knew he would. “Hol-Holden, stop.”

He doesn’t. Holden’s hand resumes it’s previous location, trying to stir something from Malcolm. His body is fighting to keep him alive. Cold, clammy, and weak. It’s a deadly combination. 

“I did all this for you,” Holden says, pulling away from Malcolm’s neck. His voice is edged with darkness, with heat. “Malcolm,” Holden grabs Malcolm by his chin, hard enough that it hurts. “I did _all_ of this for _you_.” His emphasis is drawn out with a tighter grip, his nails digging into Malcolm’s chin. “I killed my own mother. Can you not give me this? Were you lying before-”

Malcolm can feel their sudden shift, just like old times. “No! No, I-I wasn’t lying!” Tears are falling down his cheeks before he can stop them. “I wasn’t Holden, I wouldn’t lie to you.” Pain flares up his arm but he manages to raise his hand to place it to Holden’s face. “I wouldn’t.” His hand falls despite his best efforts to keep it in place. “It’s the-the medicine. You remember,” Malcolm ventures. “It was hard to-to get things going.” 

Holden kisses him, sweetly. Once again that damn thumb is at Malcolm’s lip. “Darling,” Holden keeps kissing, deepening it each time. “That’s all you had to say. Of course, I remember, I apologize for making you feel… embarrassed.” 

Malcolm’s lip trembles and he prays Holden takes it as attraction and not fear.

That hand comes back to Malcolm’s jaw, “accept my apology.” His touch is crushing, painful.

Malcolm nods, chest stuttering, “it-it-it’s okay. I accept your apology.”  
_______________________

“We should have never let him come home.” _Home._ To them, to New York. He’s always been more of a threat to himself with them because everywhere he looks is a reminder of trauma. His own family is a trigger.

Jessica Whitly stands in the station, perfectly manicured. She’s looking at Gil when she finally speaks. It’s been ten minutes, each second seeming to tic by slower than the last. Ten minutes since Gil sat her down in the conference room and told her what happened. About the crash. About the murders. About Malcolm. 

She sighs tiredly, thin fingers rubbing at her sleep-deprived eyes. A tension migraine is slowly trying to encroach on her. Forcing herself to open her eyes back up she settles them on Dani. The young detective looks like the dead walking. She can’t look any of them in the eyes. Jessica doesn’t know her well but she’s seen her son with the detective. He trusted her.

“You,” the room shifts, titled on its edge. They all misread Jessica’s tone, expecting her to lash out. To blame Dani or curse her for the car wreck. Her eyes show no malice and the corners of her mouth soften. “Dani, right?” She already knows her name. She knows nearly too much just from what Malcolm’s told her. “How are you feeling sweetie?”

Dani fails to keep resolve. Lower lip trembling against her will, she has to raise her eyes to the ceiling to keep from outright crying. Of all the things she expected, Jessica’s kindness was not it. Dani could handle being screamed out. She could handle it if Jessica needed to call her names or even throw a punch or a file at her. But the soft inflection of Jessica’s tone-

Jessica rises from her chair, gently kneeling in front of Dani’s chair. As much as her heart aches for her son, her heart aches for this woman. She pulls Dani into her arms, rubbing her back. “It’s okay,” Jessica can feel Dani sobbing silently into her shoulder. “Let it out, sweetheart.”

Dani shakes. "I'm so sorry, " she manages through half-choked sobs. 

Jessica soothes her, shushing her gently. “Nonsense,” she reassures. “Malcolm gets into this kind of trouble all on his own. It’s not your fault you just happened to be there too.” Her son has a tendency to get himself into trouble. In elementary school, it was playing with monkey bars that were too high up for him. He broke a wrist and ruined countless pairs of pants. He’s been this way since birth. Getting into trouble is as natural as breathing. 

“But, I should have-”

Jessica places her hand on Dani’s cheek, silencing her effectively. She knows her son. Malcolm has a guilt complex that is out of this world, he wouldn’t be able to handle if someone got hurt for him. “None of this is your fault.” Psycho killers, Jessica just hopes this poor girl's luck with serial killer men is better than her own. “I’m sure if my son were here he’d have some grand profile of his to explain further.”

Dani manages a sad smile. Jessica’s right. Dani wouldn’t have been able to check herself out of the hospital before Malcolm would have managed to compile an easily comprehensible list of reasons why it was unavoidable. He wouldn’t rest until she was convinced just as much as he is. 

She’d… She’d give anything to have him back.

“We’ll get him back,” Dani offers. 

Jessica nods, but deep down she fears what will happen if they can’t. It hasn’t been a day and she already misses him. His absence at brunch will be overwhelming. It seems cruelly unfair. For twenty-years she has watched her son struggle. Held back and withdrawn, Malcolm never got the chance at a normal teenager. Martin stole that from him and to think that now someone else is trying to steal Malcolm’s prime- 

Jessica lets her hand fall away from Dani, her stomach pitted. “I appreciate that, Detective.” Better than any of them could hope to know, deep down she knows that the only person who can save her son is Malcolm Bright himself. “I really do.”

There’s a sudden sharp intrusion of sound in their otherwise mostly silent room. A younger man sticks his head into the room, “Lieutenant?” His eyes find Gil, “the background search you asked for didn’t turn up anything but there was a cabin found after we searched the father’s name.”

Gil doesn’t have to say a word. JT pushes himself up to his feet, away from the table. A part of him does want to stay here with them. To soak and wallow in the desperation. “I got it boss.”

Gil nods, rubbing at his goatee. “Okay, be safe.” He nods, taking in the news once more. “I mean it, JT.” His tone is laced with worry because they can’t handle any more loss. 

“Promise.”  
_______________________

Malcolm shudders from the cold, his naked body too exposed to the chilled room. Holden keeps moving, pressing kisses wherever but Malcolm’s attention is slipping. He’s hardly conscious and even the pain has slipped away. “H0-Holden,” it’s getting harder to breathe. “I need- I need a doctor.”

The hot mouth against his neck doesn’t ease up. 

His mind is sluggish, all his academy training and life skills are coming down to this moment. He never expected to feel so calm, so tired. “You love me?” He’s spoken less than ten words but his chest aches from the strain and he’s breathless. Heaving his chest to compensate but he can’t catch up.

Holden kisses Malcolm’s chest, pushing his thighs further apart. His hand slips under Malcolm’s hips, lifting them so he can grind himself against Malcolm. “Oh, baby,” he moans. “I love you more than I’ve ever loved anything.”

He’s too weak to help himself at this point. “If you love me-” he manages, head tilting to the side. “If you- ‘m gonna die, Holden.” His body becomes overwhelmingly cold and his eyes slip shut. “Pl-” a final strangled gasp leaves his lips before unconsciousness falls around him. Dark and cold.

Holden kisses Malcolm’s jaw, moaning as the hair growing there brushes the soft skin of his lips. 

“New York Police Department!” 

Holden sits up, angry. He sighs, “well, my dear. It seems as though our time together has been interrupted.” Holden reaches back behind him, retrieving his trousers and the hunting knife in them. He runs his thumb along the blade’s edge. He traces the tip along Malcolm’s chest. 

“Holden Dredge? NYPD, open up!”

Holden shushes Malcolm, clicking his tongue as Malcolm, although unconscious, fights against the knife pushing into his flesh. “Shh, baby,” Holden pulls the knife back out slowly. He laughs at the image before him, Malcolm’s blood pouring over his pale skin. “Look at the sight of you,” Holden groans. “I could eat you up!” 

The sound of a door being kicked in draws Holden’s attention away from Malcolm. He leans over Malcolm one last time, kissing him hungrily. “I’ll see you soon, my love.” Holden grabs his pants, knife in hand, and leaves Malcolm. “I love you!”

“NYPD!”

JT runs into the room, gun raised. “Holden Dredge?” JT clears the corner but there is already a gaggle of uniformed officers standing over a body. “Who is it?” He shouts, trying to move close enough to see but two hands plant themselves on his chest and he’s stopped.

“There’s another body!”

JT is moved, removed. He’s only half-aware of himself, cold and distant. All he sees is tattered dress pants, a single socked foot, and a pool of blood. It’s too big. JT knows it. The pool of blood is just too big. No one could survive it. Not even Malcolm and stupid-

“JT!”

He loses his lunch like some straight out of the academy rookie. His knees shake. Lost. 

JT is sitting on the porch when the other’s show up. His head is pushed down between his knees. He keeps seeing that puddle of blood. Gil’s presence means one thing: _one of those bodies was Malcolm_.

Dani walks straight up to his side, searching his body for some sort of written answer. “Did-Did you see? Was it him? Was it Malcolm?”

JT shakes his head, “they wouldn’t let me see.” He looks up at them, eyes red-rimmed from crying. He clears his throat, rising to his feet. “I don’t even- I can’t-” He squeezes his eyes shut. He can’t do this right now so he pushes it all down and does what he can do. “There were two men. One D.O.A. and another that was whisked away as soon as we got here. I didn’t see anything.”  
_______________________

Edrisa stops at the conference room’s door. Its sturdy build is all that separates her from the team. In her hands is a positive identification, on her tongue the worst news she’s ever had to give. As a medical examiner, a leader in her department, and trusted above all her other staff by Gil, she understands this is her role. She is the only person who they trust right now and what she’s had to do, what she’s had to see is unfair in a way that she will _never_ be able to explain. But it’s her job and this isn’t about her.

Biting down tears and her own desperate desire to run forever in the opposite direction, she opens the door. The handle is cold in her hand, nearly biting the soft flesh of her palm. She pulls away from the cool metallic feeling, shuddering. Yesterday, the cold was familiar and safe. Her lab is cold, her job is cold, and now even that safety has been taken from her. 

“Edrisa?”

The whole room’s attention is on her. She makes eye contact with Gil, the look in his eyes guts hers. “I-” her mouth dries rapidly, her tongue darting between her lips to wet them, but it does nothing. “I-I made an I.D.” Hallow pain like a bubble swells between her breast. “It’s-It’s him.” The file in her hands, the autopsy report full of her personal notes, is gripped tightly. By putting the file down on the table, _his_ death is solidified. There is no taking it back. It becomes the truth. “It’s Bright.”

A woman in an expensive silk blouse rises to her feet. Her skin is pale and hair raven. Edrisa recognizes her as Malcolm’s mother and Edrisa lowers her eyes. The raven-haired woman lets out a broken sob, hands coming to guard her face but it does nothing to preserve her image. 

A younger, softer looking blonde woman gathers Malcolm’s mother in her arms, and Edrisa places her as Ainsley. Just a week ago, Malcolm promised her he’d introduce his family to her. Let her meet the _real_ Whitlys, not the serial killer she’d overheard on the phone. Dani and JT had laughed at that but Edrisa jumped at the chance. 

Dani refuses to look at any of them. Her fists are clenched atop the table and her eyes glued to the wall across from her. A single tear slides down her face and she brings up her right hand to wipe it away. Her hand trembles as she raises it, sniffling, but her reserve does not crumble. She clears her throat, “how do you know?” She turns in her chair, voice edged like a knife’s tip.

Edrisa isn’t prepared for such a confrontation. She blanks. 

Dani’s sharp tone matches the seething anger in her eyes. She repeats her question, this time slowly over emphasizing each word. “How do you know?” She crosses her arms over her chest. A protective and defensive stance Bright deduce if he were there. “Did you run dental records? Were they recent dental records? He gets dental work all the time. It might not really be him” Dani’s growing frantic, pulling at strings but Edrisa exhausted all of her resources. She did everything she could to disprove the hard facts in front of her. 

Gil shakes his head, already having accepted the news long before Edrisa confirmed it. He tries and fails to reign Dani in. “Dani,” his resolve is gone. He doesn’t have it in him. He’s just tired, broken. “Dani, _kid_ , please.” The way he says her name, his soft tone creates an immediate tension between Dani and Gil. It’s a clear, brutal line that he’s drawn. 

Dani turns a frown to Gil, furious that he’s given up. His tone says it all. He’s telling her to pack it up. The hunt is over. Malcolm is…

She feels pinned. Hopeless. Malcolm’s mother has given up on him. Jessica, a woman known for her grit and determination, is just accepting. She’s just taking it. Dani stands, putting her hands out on the table when her knees turn liquid beneath her. “How are you all just-” a sob chokes her and she grimaces as she forces it away. “You can’t-” a tear manages to slip past her reserves. “He’s not gone. He’s not.” Dani looks for any reprieve, something to tell her she’s not going crazy. That this is all just a bad dream.

“JT?” Dani looks to JT. He’s the only person unwavering in the face of this conflict. If anything, he’s too put together. He remains stoic, eyes on the floor. There are no tears threatening to spill over. His face is utterly expressionless. There’s a part of him that knows deep down that if he does look at Dani he will crack but this bigger than him. 

Pushing himself from the windowsill he’s leaning against, JT walks away. He walks past Jessica sobbing on the floor, past Dani and her trembling knees, past Gil’s defeat, and past Edrisa confusion. He doesn’t stop. The cold winter air hits his bare skin but he doesn’t even flinch. He just keeps walking, needing to put as much distance between him and that precinct as possible. He keeps walking until the feeling in the bottom of his stomach becomes too much. 

He throws up, stomach acid burning his nostrils. 

He wipes the back of his mouth with his sleeve, sniffling.

_What have they done?_

_**“Every word has consequences. Every silence, too.” - Jean-Paul Sartre** _


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I haven't figured out how the reunion will take place

_“No mortal can keep a secret. If the lips are silent, he chatters with his fingertips; betrayal oozes out of him at every pore.”_ -Sigmund Freud

There is no rain. There was supposed to be rain. How come the world isn’t grieving on one of Dani Powell’s worst days ever? At her father’s funeral, fat drops of rain-soaked her to the bone. In the black dress her mother forced her into that morning, she stood by her father’s side one last time. The wet cloth clung to her body and no matter how many times her mother called for her to stand under the umbrella, Dani did not move.

Today, there is no rain. Tears glide down her cheek but the world does not mourn with her. How can the universe be so cruel? How can God? He takes her best friend and He does not mourn too? He does not grieve? 

There are always risks. They pay insurance companies out of the pocket to reassure that if the day comes when they meet a premature demise they can afford a funeral. Yet, this all seems impossible. So unfair. This never happens-

Not to them, at least.

"Malcolm, " his name falls from her mouth, trembling. Her lips are grappling to get a hold of his name the way her arms wish to get a hold of his soul once again. To never let go. "He had this way of-" her eyes look up from the notecards warped and teased in her hands. To a crowd of people who have known him his whole life without ever knowing anything about him. "He could make you feel loved without ever saying a word." 

The tears in her eyes reflect his gentle smile. She's reminded, standing in front of a crowd of people who know a faux Malcolm wishing for them to have known the man she never knew either. How many times had he bitten back admissions of unease? How many times had he wiped tears away before they fell down his cheek so that he might spare his family his pain? He’ll be remembered for being let go by the FBI for tendencies described to be too similar to his fathers’. They’ll put a picture in the paper and some half-assed three sentences that will undoubtedly recall something about Martin Whitly.

Dani will go to her grave craving the way it felt to just stand beside him. The sky, tomorrow morning, will look just like his eyes and she’ll think she saw him walking down the sidewalk. She’ll call his name to a businessman just trying to make it to work on time and cry in the park with a hollow chest unable to feel a thing at all. 

“On the first day that I met him, I was adamant to trust him.” It’s taken her hours and countless tears to come up with what she’s supposed to say. But sometimes there are no clever words to sum up a feeling. It can be the absence of all reason and logic but even that does not strike the right tune. “He-” her voice betrays her. She looks up, searching for someone in the crowd to ground her. She finds JT. 

He’s been weird, cut off. She could write it off as grief but that would be naive. There is something else, guilt riddled in his silence and pain in his touch. He’s there when she needs him, in that way he’s predictable and stable, but it seems as if every time she looks to him he can’t meet her eyes. 

“He-” her attention is snapped like the bough of a tree. On the far east side, there’s a man. She could let it go, she should let it go but there’s something about the man. The sight of him sits uneasily with her like deja vu. “He-” the man keeps coming and he’s now gathered all of Dani’s attention. The sun catches the glint of something bright tucked in his belt and her stomach twists in a painful knot. “Gun!”

The crowd immediately turns into raw unadulterated chaos. She’s off duty, Gil’s placed her on administrative leave, so she doesn’t have a gun. Still, habits keep her from ducking and running. Instead, she stands and watches as JT pulls a gun out of nowhere. 

He’s on leave too. He shouldn’t have his gun.

She shouts his name but he’s glued on the target. 

“Holden Dredge,” JT shouts, gun raised. “Put the gun down!” 

Holden is close enough now that Dani can see him. She can make out his features. She can see the man that killed Malcolm. There’s a sick smile smacked across his face. He drops the gun, raising his hands slowly. “I wanted to see him,” Holden tells JT. “Wanted to say goodbye.” He’s still smiling when JT cuffs him.

“Holden Dredge you’re under arrest for the death of Henry Tob and the kidnapping of Malcolm Bright.” JT pushes the man forward, “you have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in the court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you can’t afford an attorney one will be appointed to you.”

Dani stands in horror. Unmoving.

JT’s words were _“kidnapping of Malcolm Bright”_ not the death of. JT wouldn’t mess up an arrest. He looks up from Holden, hand still on his back. “Go find Edrisa,” he instructs, shouting over his shoulder.

**Several Weeks Earlier**

_Edrisa can’t take it. JT keeps talking, walking her through the plan he’s been given but she can’t do this. It’s all too much and-and- “I can’t,” her breath is picking up, her panic building. “I can’t do this JT! This-This is crazy! It can’t work!” She can feel her body shaking despite her attempt to stay calm._

_JT grabs her by the shoulders and she can’t recognize the look she finds in his eyes. “Dammit, Edrisa!” Everything is going wrong. None of this was supposed to happen. “I don’t have time for this.” He glances over his shoulder, this whole affair is leaving him paranoid and anxious. “Just listen to me, okay?”_

_She isn’t sure they’re going to pull this off but… that’s not her job. “O-Okay.” She can hardly manage it but she nods._

_JT sighs, deflating. He runs a hand over his face and for the first time, she sees just how tired he looks. “I’m-I’m so sorry,” he shakes his head. “I shouldn’t have yelled but this is- I lied to Dani today. I held her in my arms…” He clears his throat, attempting, for the umpteenth time that day, to pull himself together. “Can you just… Can you just do this for me? Can you do it for Bright?”_

_Fake an autopsy report._

_Lie to her team- to her family._

_She shakes her head. She needs a body in the morgue. There’s still only so much she can fake._

_“Henry Tob was found dead at the scene.” JT explains, “Holden Dredge had him in that basement for a year. He died, probably malnutrition. His death was, probably what Malcolm would call, his stressor.” That guy looked a lot like Malcolm. Too much like Malcolm. “His death is what sent Dredge over the edge, it’s why he killed all those people.”_

_Edrisa shakes her head, already understanding what he’s asking her to do. “So, you want me to…” She swallows thickly, “you want me to tell them this- this-”_

_“Henry,” JT reminds her._

_“You want me to tell them that Henry is Malcolm?”_

_JT nods, solemn. “I know what I’m asking.” He puts his hand on her shoulder, “Malcolm… He needs us, Edrisa. Can you be a badass for me, one more time?”_

_Edrisa sniffles and wraps her arms around herself. “Yeah, okay.”_

_**"People can be stunningly unobservant." -Stephen King** _


End file.
